


Neither Man nor Muse

by sarahgene12



Category: Inspector Morse (TV), Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Identity, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: It's the day after a particularly harrowing case for James Hathaway (the case from the Lewis episode Life Born of Fire). Lewis is trying to understand his new knowledge of his partner, and trying to comfort James but is making a mess of it. Both of them have had a lot to drink and James ends up teaching Lewis a thing or two.





	

“Well now, this is cozy. Is it necessary for the two of us to only have the one blanket?”  
Lewis set his very full glass of beer down on the corner table, before lowering himself slowly down onto the couch. His bones and muscles ached, far more than he imagined Hathaway’s would. Once he was sat, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d be able to rise again.  
Hathaway, already settled at the other end of the couch with his long legs pulled nearly to his chest, took a sip from his own beer and smirked.  
“Not strictly necessary, sir, no. I was under the impression this was the only blanket you owned. But I won’t try anything funny if you won’t, sir.”  
Lewis grabbed his end of the blanket, looking exasperated. “I’ll sit on me hands if I must, Sergeant.” Then he frowned. “Is that comfortable?”  
“Not really, sir.”  
The Inspector stretched his own legs out, wedging his feet to one side, between the back cushion and what he suspected was Hathaway’s thigh. “Go on then, put ‘em flat if you like.”  
Hathaway raised his eyebrows; the rest of his face showed little of what he was thinking, as usual. He did as Lewis instructed, resting his back against the far armrest and stretching his legs out as far as they would go; when he was comfortable, he wriggled one of his feet, poking his Inspector playfully in the side with his big toe.  
“Oi! Watch yourself, Sergeant!” Lewis scowled, realizing with a start that he was now effectively bookended between Hathaway’s legs.  
“I’m sorry, sir, but you told me to. I am rather tall, sir.”  
“Never mind that, let’s just get these finished. Just, keep your limbs to yourself, ay?”  
Hathaway smiled and said nothing.  
Nearly an hour passed before either of the men spoke again. Every few minutes, Hathaway would flex his toes. Lewis concentrated heavily on not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.  
This last case had caused a rift between Lewis and his sergeant; Hathaway had lost several friends, a majority of whom had been a part of the local gay community. Naturally curious, Lewis had asked Hathaway how he identified. He realized to himself as he sat barely reading his own notes that the sergeant had never given him a definitive answer.  
“James..”  
Hathaway looked up from his own notes, blinking as if Lewis had startled him out of a stupor. “Yes, sir?”  
The inspector hesitated. He reached for his glass to buy himself more time, only to discover he’d already drained it. He sighed, and settled back on the sofa.  
Hathaway watched him.  
“Are you…well, when I asked you a couple of days ago if you were gay—”  
“As I remember it, sir, you never actually used that word.”  
“Alright, no, no I didn’t, but you never really gave me a real answer, either.”  
“I thought you’d decided it was none of your business.”  
Lewis sat upright suddenly, shoving Hathaway’s legs away from him in such a violent way that the young sergeant was nearly toppled off the sofa. Some of Hathaway’s notes fluttered to the floor.  
“Now you—you bloody well listen, Sergeant! I don’t give a toss if you’re gay or straight or what have you! It seemed to me this case really got to you, and I understand that, I do, it would be extremely hard to lose so many friends at once.”  
Hathaway looked sour. “I would have thought you’d figured out by now that Will McEwan wasn’t just a friend, sir.” He spoke this words not to his Inspector’s face, but to the pile of papers he’d gathered and haphazardly stacked on the low table in front of them.  
Lewis gaped at him, breathing a little heavily from his outburst. Forgetting for a moment his previous trepidations, he laid a hand on the sergeant’s knee. Hathaway turned his head slightly, staring at the older man’s fingers with an expression of acquiescent surprise.  
“James….”  
The brightness in Hathaway’s eyes dulled. “Sir.”  
“Was… was Will your boyfriend, then?”  
Hathaway shrugged, reaching for and subsequently draining his own glass. Lewis couldn’t remember whether the sergeant had gone for beer or scotch, but he suspected the latter.  
“I don’t know, sir. We never really gave it a name. I liked him, and I suppose he liked me just as much. Of course all of that ended when I decided he was going to hell. When I was told he was going to hell. And god help me, I believed it.”  
Lewis frowned. “Wouldn’t you have condemned yourself as well, then? If you believed all that wash about homosexuality being a sin?”  
Hathaway’s leg twitched under Lewis’ hand. He chuckled to himself, bitterly. “Oh absolutely. I was probably harder on myself than I was on Will.”  
The two of them sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Lewis stood, collecting the two empty glasses and returning them to the kitchen. Hathaway twisted in his seat, curious. He’d been biting down hard on the inside of his cheek ever since Lewis had snapped at him; the inspector’s kindness had hit an unexpected nerve, but he was certainly not going to burst into tears just because his similarly lovelorn boss had cooed some nice words and patted his knee.  
“Red wine? On top of scotch, sir?” His jaw ached.  
Lewis walked carefully back to the couch, carrying two full glasses. He handed one to Hathaway before settling himself slowly back down. “Me best wine, actually. Innocent gave it to me for me birthday, last year.”  
Hathaway raised his eyebrows, looking amused. “I didn’t think she knew anyone’s birthday, besides her own. What did you do to warrant such a gift?”  
Lewis took a gulp of the wine, smacked his lips, and shrugged. “Dunno. Probably cleaning up one of your messes, I suspect.”  
Hathaway laughed at that, drinking generously of his own glass and feeling pleasantly dizzy. As Lewis watched, the young sergeant seemed to slip lower in his seat, a little pinker in the face than usual.  
“Feeling good?”  
“Mmm.”  
They were quiet then for a long while, sipping (or gulping, in Hathaway’s case) their wine, perhaps feeling just a little the reason why one doesn’t pour a glass of grape on top of a bellyful of scotch.  
Lewis’ head felt dull. He smacked his lips after a particularly tasty mouthful, knowing he was very quickly becoming drunk, and not really minding. He also knew there was a question he wanted to ask of Hathaway; the small part of him which was not silly with drink was warning him not to. The part which was, of course, eventually won over.  
“Say, James?”  
“Hmm?”  
“How’d you know, like?”  
“How’d I know what, sir?”  
Lewis frowned into his glass, unsure of the words he wanted to use. “Hummmm…How did you know at first that you….preferred lads?”  
He thought he heard Hathaway chuckle, lowly. “There’s probably a better way of putting that, sir. I’ve always made sure they’re consenting adults, at the very least.”  
The inspector coughed into his glass. Hathaway reached over and patted his back helpfully.  
“They? You make it sound like there’ve been a lot of men you’ve….well, you know.”  
Hathaway smirked, swirling the last of his own wine around and around before drinking it down. “No, sir, not lots. But I’ve had experiences, certainly.” He paused, suddenly grinning. “Are you blushing, sir?”  
Lewis did his best to look shocked. “I most certainly am not! It’s the wine, I’m…I’ve had plenty of wine, that’s all.”  
Hathaway looked back down at where his inspector’s hand was still gently cupping his knee. Brow furrowed in drunken concentration, he laid his own hand on top of Lewis’, pressing down on it just enough to have control. He pushed their hands together further above his knee, sliding Lewis’ by way of his own up and over, stopping when the inspector’s fingers curled loosely around the inside of his thigh.  
“Mmmm. That’s nice.” He leaned his head back.  
Now Lewis was blushing. He looked confused, blinking rabidly and staring at his hand, wiggling his fingers as if he couldn’t believe they were attached. Hathaway murmured happily at the sensation.  
“Are you enjoying that, sir?”  
Lewis only blinked. Hathaway shifted in his seat, scooting closer; his movement caused— quite purposefully—the inspector’s hand to fall gently against the zipper of Hathaway’s trousers.  
The sergeant sighed, smiling softly. He lifted his hips slightly, pressing his hand overtop Lewis’ again. “Press down a little. Y-yes, like that.” His hand guided Lewis’, providing gentle friction as he rolled his narrow hips upwards.  
Lewis sat dazed, watching what Hathaway was helping him to do, scarcely able to believe he was doing it. He licked his lips. “James….”  
Hathaway panted quietly, pressing his hand a little more forcefully on Lewis’ own. At the sound of his name, however, he let go. The inspector’s hand stayed where it was.  
“Go on then, if you want,” Hathaway breathed. His features were strained; his muscles, Lewis could feel, were taut, as if it took every ounce of self-control to keep still.  
Lewis hesitated, swallowing hard, feeling his tongue, suddenly too big for his mouth and terribly, gaspingly dry. For a moment he wanted to recoil, to draw his hand away and run. He looked at his sergeant. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth dropped open slightly; he was still halfway managing to look smug.  
Perhaps it was this last observation which finally convinced him. He’d imagined wiping that smarmy I-know-everything expression off the young copper’s face just once, for years— though never quite in these circumstances.  
Keeping his eyes firmly on his slightly shaking hand, Lewis pressed down on Hathaway again. This time he wiggled his fingers deliberately.  
Hathaway moaned quietly, lifting his hips to the touch. Now that they no longer needed to lead, his hands were clenched at his sides, clutching handfuls of the forgotten blanket. Lewis pressed harder, rubbing the cleft of his palm in slow, exploring strokes against Hathaway’s growing erection.  
The thrust of the sergeant’s hips grew faster, more frantic, his moans louder. “S-sir! Sir, the—my—” He was gasping, and rather than wait for Lewis to understand, he yanked the zipper of his trousers downwards.  
Lewis stopped. “James, I don’t—” Hathaway’s eyes were wide, his forehead damp; he was desperate, Lewis could see that. And this had already gone too far.  
“Show me.”  
Just the words elicited another moan from Hathaway. He grabbed ahold of Lewis’ wrist, long fingers squeezing hard, and pushed the other man’s fingers through the open flap of his trousers.  
Just the same way they’d begun, Lewis let his hand be guided, let Hathaway lead his fingers, clumsy as they were, around the young sergeant’s cock.  
Hathaway’s hips bucked wildly, and he hissed a quiet “Fuck!” as Lewis slowly, tentatively began to stroke. The sound sent a hard shiver down the inspector’s spine. He’d never heard his sergeant curse quite so colorfully. After this he might not want to, ever again.  
Lewis squeezed ever so slightly, quickening his pace. James was a much younger man than he, his sensitivity was a clear testament to this; he could feel Hathaway’s whole body shuddering, the narrow hipbones he’d be lying to himself if he said he’d never noticed before rocking steadily against his forearm.  
“R-Robbie…oh God! Oh fuck! F-fuck!” He couldn’t help but stare at James’ neck, exposed and shining with sweat, the muscles there and in his jaw jumping and pulling as Hathaway threw his head back again, cursing deliciously and using Lewis’ name so profanely. There was another word he could never associate normally from the younger man’s mouth ever again.  
Still unable to fully believe any of this was really happening, Lewis closed his fingers a little tighter around Hathaway’s trembling cock, and brushed his thumb across the tip.  
With a last, jarring roll of his hips, James came, crying out loud enough that Lewis had a momentary thought for the neighbors. Hathaway spilt himself over the front of his trousers and the inspector’s still loosely clenched fist.  
When Lewis released him, the young sergeant collapsed, seeming to melt into the sofa, his long arms and legs still trembling. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the higher cushion. His breath came in low, deep gasps, gradually slowing until he might have been asleep.  
Lewis stared at his hand, slick and spattered with James’ come. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, aware suddenly of just how intensely his body had been paying attention to his mind.  
He hesitated a moment more before making a move to stand. He’d only just gotten to his feet when James opened his eyes.  
“Where are you going?”  
Lewis felt his face burning. “Oh, I-I, uh, I’ve just got to, erm. I thought I’d go and have a wash, just—”  
The expression of delight which flashed across Hathaway’s face told Lewis he’d been found out. The sergeant’s eyes flickered on the front of Lewis’ trousers, then back up to his superior officer’s face. He purred.  
“Well, we can’t leave that to fend for itself, can we? I’ve got to return the favor.”  
Lewis felt his knees turn to water. He fell more than sat back down on the couch, unable to keep his own eyes away from the fact that Hathaway had all but wriggled out of his trousers and pants.  
His sergeant knelt half-naked in front of him, staring lazily up at Lewis with heavily-lidded, brightly shining eyes. Deft hands, narrow-fingered and pale, slipped button from loop and separated zip from teeth.  
Hathaway pulled Lewis’ trousers down far enough that he was exposed completely; damned if he didn’t purr again, smiling slightly.  
“Why inspector, I had no idea. Would you like me to…?”  
Lewis swallowed, hard. James looked so willing, kneeling in front of him with the most wicked expression of pleasure warming his narrow features. He nodded, already feeling his heart pounding dangerously in his chest.  
Without waiting a single moment more, James parted his lips, and sucked mercilessly at the tip of Lewis’ cock.  
Shock pulsed through the inspector’s veins, and he was nearly lost there and then. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt something so powerful, so like fire, in his own skin. Perhaps in his younger days, with Val..?  
James ran his tongue slowly along the underside of his inspector’s swollen cock, leaning his head forward until he had all of him, thrilling at the feel of him twitching in his mouth. Lewis’ hands found the back of Hathaway’s head and gripped his hair hard enough that it did actually hurt a little; he hummed happily at the sensation, and Lewis’s hips bucked, and he was gasping.  
Hathaway pursed his lips, pulling back just far enough to hold just the tip behind his lips. Lewis’ fingers tore and twisted in his hair, sending little messages of pain which James barely noticed. He splayed his fingers wide across Lewis’ thighs, squeezing them a little as he felt Lewis begin to thrust.  
James took him easily, allowing the inspector to push his head down against Lewis’ belly. He heard his furtive gasps, his quiet whimpers of need. A minute more, and Lewis’ fingers released their pull on Hathaway’s hair, pawing wildly about the back of his neck. He raised welts with his fingernails as the muscles in his thighs tensed; something in his back popped alarmingly as his hips rose away from the sofa.  
“J-J-James!” Lewis’ voice sounded choked, high and shrill. Gasping, he held on tight to the back of Hathaway’s neck, squeezing the breath from his sergeant as he came.  
Hathaway held Lewis’ softening cock in his mouth, lapping up every drop, kneading the older officer’s thighs as Lewis sighed and fell back against the sofa.  
When the sergeant stood, wiping his mouth, he was still. He looked down at Lewis, who was sitting with his eyes closed, chest still rising and falling quite fast. Hathaway was aware of his own nakedness, but didn’t really care. Not then. He was watching Lewis’ face. Waiting.  
When Lewis finally opened his eyes, it was to match Hathaway’s. For a short, terrifying moment, James felt sure he was going to be shouted at, and told to leave. He would, of course, and tenure his resignation the very next day, if that’s what his inspector wanted.  
Instead, Lewis drew a deep breath, released it, and patted the spot on the couch beside him. “Go on, then. Sit.”  
Hathaway hesitated. The high was wearing off, and it would soon for Lewis too, probably even more quickly. He’d never meant for any of what had just happened, to happen.  
Lewis patted the couch cushion again. This time, Hathaway accepted the offer. He coped with the whirling in his head by focusing on Lewis’ chin, and nowhere else. His eyes would be damning. Anywhere else and, well. There was quite a mess.  
“It’s alright to look at me, James.”  
“I don’t think so, sir.”  
To his surprise, and fear, Lewis laughed, sounding exhausted and incredulous. “For God’s sake, man, after all that I think you’re allowed to call me by me Christian name!”  
Hathaway looked at him, saw no hatred, no judgement, and realized there was a question he desperately wanted to ask.  
“Can I kiss you, Robbie?”  
Lewis looked shocked for a moment, but then the hand which had invited Hathaway to join him on the couch, was lifted, and cupped the young sergeant’s face tenderly.  
“Ay, you can,” he said, nearly in a whisper.


End file.
